


Cover of Darkness

by QuietCuppa



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Eventual Fluff, F/M, Jon and Sansa Are Not Related, Past Abuse, Sharing a Bed, Soulmate-Identifying Timers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-22
Updated: 2017-06-22
Packaged: 2018-10-22 15:52:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10700211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuietCuppa/pseuds/QuietCuppa
Summary: Sansa’s soulmate timer was counting down, and it was clear it would go off at the start of the party. Ned hadn’t seen Robert in years, but everyone knew Joffrey was close to her age. They all assumed Joffrey was Sansa’s soulmate. It seemed perfect. With all the commotion, no one heard her timer go off except Sansa. And Jon, when his did too. Sansa was afraid of disappointing everyone. And the Baratheons seemed so stylish, and sophisticated, and everything she wanted at thirteen. In the decade plus since then, however, she learned the hard way just how wrong she was.





	1. Alone

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve always loved soulmates. Also, spring is the perfect time to post a Christmas fic, right? I experimented with POV changes. I hope it works. Un-beta’d.

Sansa loved Christmas when she was younger. How could she not? As a child, she feasted on fairytales with brave knights, beautiful ladies, and tidy happily ever after endings. She was so immersed in her fantasy world that she truly believed good always triumphed over evil and magic was real -- and there was no time more magical than Christmas.

Now she knows better, and the holidays have become more of an endurance challenge as a result. With everyone and their soulmates crammed together in her parents’ house, it is impossible to pretend away the distance between her and the rest of the family. The fact that it is all her fault only makes it worse. She doesn’t know what to say when Robb awkwardly cracks a joke to break the tension, or when she catches her father watching her from across the room. Earlier today she found herself slowly backing out of the hallway after overhearing her mother anxiously whispering about how, with everyone coupled up, they needed to do more to make Sansa feel included. Catelyn didn’t need to add “or we’ll lose her again,” but Sansa could tell from Robb’s murmuring that it was implied. Sansa winced when Rickon chimed in: “but isn’t Jon’s alone too?”

Speaking of things that are her fault.

Jon, like Sansa, spent most of the day drifting towards the corner of whatever room he was in, always picking the one farthest from Sansa. It has been a few years since he and Ygritte ended things. When your partner meets her soulmate it does tend to put a damper on the relationship. But although he has dated sporadically since then, this is the first Christmas since Ygritte’s death, and he seems to draw the loneliness around him like a blanket.

Sansa tried to get Arya to talk to Jon, but Arya insisted Jon was acting perfectly normal. Sansa didn’t know how to press her sister without revealing her big, never spoken secret. So Arya traipsed back to her own soulmate, who somehow always managed to have smudges on his face, hands, or both, even when he was outside the metalshop. Sansa debated asking another family member to intervene with Jon, but she knew at best they would react the same way as Arya. At worst, they might ask questions, and that was not something Sansa was not willing to risk.

Which is how she finds herself tiptoeing into the basement after everyone goes to bed, unsure if she should hope he is awake so they can talk, or asleep so she can leave. When the light clicks on and she sees him glowering at her, she decides she wishes he was asleep. Definitely asleep.

“What do you want, Sansa?”

His tone is accusatory, and everything about him screams ‘go away.’ She draws her arms around her chest, in part for warmth, and in part to cover her thinning t-shirt. Why did she forget that it is always an icebox down here? But it’s too late to go back for her robe, and she refuses to be cowed by the challenge in his eyes.

“I wanted to see if you are ok.”

“Ok?” She can tell by his face that he meant that as a question, as in ‘why do you care?’ but he knows it sounds like he is repeating her. He chooses not to explain himself.

“This is the first Christmas since she… Since Ygritte…” Sansa closes her eyes, trying to find the words. “You just seemed so alone.”

“Sansa, Ygritte and I broke up years ago.” He speaks slowly, like she is a child.

“I know that, but you had someone, even if it didn’t work out, and now she’s gone.” How can she explain that Jon can’t pretend with her? Sansa knows what it’s like to be on your own, but saying that would require veering into truths they’d both rather avoid. “Arya said the same thing when I asked her to talk to you, but she said…”

“Are you just going to stand there shivering?

  


_Of all the people. Sansa Fucking Stark. Jon just wants to get through the holidays without anyone paying too much attention to him so he can go home and deal with losing Ygritte all over again instead of grieving for a woman who was never his to begin with while surrounded by happy couples who could never possibly understand._

_Sansa straightens her back, and her expression hardens. Damnit. Instead of scaring her away he basically dared her to stay. Stupid. He can feel the pain building behind his temples and decides to stop the argument before it begins._

_“Get in.” She starts, and Jon can tell she wasn’t expecting that._

_“Get in. I know you well enough to know you’re not going to leave, so get in. Or are you afraid I won’t be able to resist you?” The last bit was a low blow, but Jon reasons he is being magnanimous enough by offering her space in the bed, which, although she huffs, she does not turn down._

_An uncomfortable silence descends once Sansa settles on the other side. Other than some pointed barbs, they have never really spoken, despite knowing each other for over a decade. He’s surprised she is the one to reach out about Ygritte. He had thought about it, and if he were a betting man he would have put his money on Bran. The middle Stark brother was a dark horse candidate, but Robb was still wrapped up in his newly discovered soulmate, and Jon had seen enough couples in the early stages to know the honeymoon phase can be all consuming. Arya isn’t exactly good with ‘feelings and all that crap,’ as she likes to put it, and even though Rickon is now a teenager, he still feels so much younger to Jon. Ned is too stoic for any real emotional intervention, and Catelyn, while kind, has never figured out how the stray from the wrong side of the tracks fits into her upper crust life. A life Sansa was always desperate to imitate, which is not even the main reason why She. Should. Not. Be. Here._

_Sansa was supposed to be his soulmate, the one person he could count on to love him. But she never did. Ygritte was the one who filled that hole in his life; who loved him even though they never quite made sense together. But having Sansa so close pushes Ygritte from his mind, and all he can think about is the the question that has dogged him since he first met Sansa. Not: why wasn’t I good enough? Or, why couldn’t you love me? Those he accepted. No, the question he could never figure out was:_

_“How did you get away with hiding it for so long?”_

  


She almost laughs. Of all the things she wants to talk about, or dreads talking about, it never occurred to her they might start here.

“The party.”

“I know. I was there”

She looks over at him for a moment before changing her mind and staring straight ahead.

“My timer was counting down, and it was clear it would go off at the start of the party. Father hadn’t seen Robert in years. I’m not sure he had even met Robert and Cersei’s children. We knew Joffrey was close to my age, and everyone just assumed he was my soulmate. It seemed so perfect.” Sansa gave a wry smile that was more of a grimace. She is mortified by how utterly stupid she was back then. The universe gave her this beautiful and kind man. Well, boy at the time. And she thumbed her nose at him.

“With all the commotion, no one heard it go off except me. And you, when yours did too.” She turns to him again, almost pleading. “I was afraid of disappointing everyone. And the Baratheons seemed so stylish, and sophisticated, and everything I wanted at thirteen. And you were…”

  


_At least she is embarrassed enough to look away._

_“The exact opposite.”_

_“Yes.” She meets his eyes, and the shame from that day begins to creep back into his heart._

_“You are not a sadistic, spoiled, arrogant asshole who doesn’t know the difference between classy and grotesque displays of wealth.”_

_Her words cause a shocked snort to escape him. While it’s surreal and not exactly funny, a small amount of the tension dissipates from the room. That party was perhaps the defining moment of Jon’s life until he met Ygritte. He remembers wanting to leave as soon as Robb snuck him in. Robb accused Jon of being scared, but the real reason was that Jon knew he didn’t belong, and he wanted to go before someone threw it in his face. That someone turned out to be Sansa. He was damaged before. Being rejected by his soulmate broke him. Luckily, like many kids from troubled homes, he was good at putting on a mask._

_In all these years, he never really considered how young she was. It’s not uncommon for soulmates who meet early in life to dislike each other at first. Hell, there’s a whole sub-genre of teen movies devoted to soulmates who despise each other before falling in love. But although he would never admit it, as a love starved and abandoned fifteen year old Jon had been counting down the days until he met his soulmate. And she didn’t exactly change her mind about being with him in the intervening years._

_“But anyone who looked at Joffrey’s timer would have known.”_

_“I couldn’t believe no one noticed either. I couldn’t believe it for years. But that’s what made it so easy. Why would anyone look? Who would lie about that? All Cersei had to do was make sure everyone kept their mouths shut, and this well bred girl from an appropriate family dropped into her son’s life forty years before his real soulmate would show up. By then he would be set, and I could be easily discarded.”_

_Her voice is bitter. She’s right. The ruse worked perfectly. It would take eight years and a late night phone call from the hospital for the Starks to realize Joffrey wasn’t Sana’s soulmate, and by then she could claim not to know what happened to the boy who set off her timer. There’s just one problem._

_“You stayed.”_

_She looks like she is trying not to cry. No matter what passed between them, Jon still hates what happened to her, and he wants to beat the shit out of Joffrey, again. Robb was shocked when it was Jon who stepped forward and decked Joffrey at the hospital, earning him an overnight stay in the county jail until Ygritte could bail him out -- two weeks before meeting her own soulmate and without ever knowing Sansa was his._

_Sansa may have been thirteen when they met, but it didn’t change the fact that every day between the party and the hospital she chose Joffrey over him._

  


“At first I was never around Joffrey.” Sansa is not sure if she is talking to Jon or to herself. “I saw him three times over four years. I could pretend he was some sort of gallant prince until we were together at university. And the longer it went on, the harder it was to admit the truth.” She focuses on her hands. “Even after, I… I never loved him. I loved the idea of the life we would have.”

“And no one else could give you that?” Jon’s question is loaded, and she tries to evade it.

“An unclaimed boy close to my age from a family with a similar social standing?”

  


_Is she really that shallow?_

  


God, was I really that shallow? It’s clear Jon knows she was. “Not everyone is born into money Sansa. Some of your father’s closest friends… Hell, the Mormonts actually worked for their place in the world.”

“Do you think I don’t know that? Do you think I don’t spend every day ashamed of myself?” She shouldn’t be saying these things to him. To anyone. It’s better, safer, to hold it in. “Who would want someone like that? Can  you imagine yourself with a dutiful wife who throws tasteful parties and puts appearances above everything else? Because that’s all I wanted to be.” She doesn’t even realize she is shouting until the sob catches in her throat.

Shit. Shit. Shit. She nearly broke the unspoken rule to never directly mention what they are supposed to be to each other.

  


_The sad thing is that was exactly what he wanted back then. He idealized Ned and Catelyn, but could only dream of being the successful patriarch of a perfect family. And he definitely cared about appearances because he was never good enough to meet them._

_Then he fell in love with Ygritte because she did what she wanted; to hell with what other people thought. And he finally started accepting himself for who he was instead of wishing he met other people’s expectations._

  


Sansa tries to rein in the shaking before it becomes noticeable, unsure if it’s sadness or rage that is trying to escape. But she can’t seem to stop the words.

“And it was all my fault for letting it happen. But I couldn’t tell anyone. And then it would get worse, and that was my fault too.” Tears and snot threaten to leak down her face. She can’t imagine what is going on in Jon’s head, but it can’t be anything good.

  


_But she could have told someone. A lot of someones. She had the type of loving family Jon could only dream of, and she turned her back on them. He remembers Catelyn’s watery eyes when Sansa told them at the last minute she wouldn’t be coming home for the summer. He’s the one who went for long, silent, hikes in the woods with Ned when Sansa failed to call for weeks at a time. When Sansa left Robb’s birthday blowout early so she could meet Joffrey, who had not even bothered to show up, Jon did shots with Robb while Arya tried to cheer him up by acting out an imagined version of Sansa’s haughty dinner plans._

_“I get it. You were embarrassed. But Sansa, all you had to do was pick up the phone. Anyone in your family would have come running. You wouldn't even have to tell them why.”_

_“You don’t get it.” Jon can feel his exasperation growing, but then she continues and a chill starts to set in. “Sometimes I wonder if there is a secret textbook for abusers that they all use. Every time I made plans without him he questioned my loyalties, and I don’t know, but somehow I started believing that he was right. And Joffrey kep insisting my family didn’t like him, and how could I betray him by spending time with people who wanted to come between us? And at first it was just easier not to fight over it, and then… there just wasn’t anyone left. Only him.”_

_Jon doesn’t know what all Joffrey did to Sansa, and if he’s honest with himself, he doesn’t really want to. Seeing the bruises and broken jaw was bad enough. Arya telling him Joffrey never hit her in the face before, that he liked her pretty, was worse. That’s why they never knew. And while for the most part Jon genuinely wanted to help, he hated that small part of himself that was angry at Sansa, even while she was in the hospital, for staying with Joffrey instead of being with him._

  


The truth is Sansa doesn’t understand how she let it happen either. No matter how many times her therapist, or anyone for that matter, tells her being abused doesn’t mean she’s weak, she still feels ashamed. She always thought she was better. The fact that she wasn’t even supposed to be with Joffrey in the first place doesn’t help. She had a real soulmate who is selfless and good, not to mention hot. Instead of being grateful, she chased a monster.

“Do you want to know something horrible? One of the things that pisses me off the most is that my story isn’t even unique. One of the first things they tell you is that you’re not the only one to go through this. It’s supposed to make you feel less like a failure or something. But I kept thinking to myself, ‘damn it, even my screwups are ordinary.’”

That earns her a laugh.

“Sansa, I promise nothing about you is ordinary.” She can see he wants to take the words back as soon as they leave his mouth. There is something dangerous in his eyes. Something they both gave up on long ago, and which is better left in the past.

“It’s funny. Arya is the only one I can talk to about it.” Sansa smiles when she sees him frown. “I know. It doesn’t make any sense. Everyone else walks on eggshells, and it just makes me that much more ashamed of what I put them through. Arya marched right up to me and said she didn’t get it. Then we yelled at each other, which was the first normal thing I’d done in years, and then she went out and read a book.” Sansa couldn’t believe it. At the time she wanted to cry. It was maybe the most loving thing anyone had ever done for her. “Arya still didn’t understand it, but she could see the pattern of how it happened. She’s also the only one who never tried to fix me. Maybe it’s because she always thought I was an idiot.”

Sansa meant the last part as a joke, but it clearly only troubled Jon more.

“Sansa, you’re not…You can keep beating yourself up, but it’s not helping.”

  


_He can actually see her hackles go up, and he wishes he was better with words as he tries to clarify. “I know. I know. It’s not that simple. It’s just… It’s keeping you from your family,” he finishes lamely. It wasn’t just Jon she turned her back on. But while Joffrey is long gone, Sansa still holds her family at arms length._

_“I know. That’s what I was saying. I…”_

_“I get it. But you have to forgive yourself or it will never be over.” Jon cringes, but instead of lashing out she just stares at him._

_“Damnit Jon. That was almost insightful.”_

_She rubs her hands over her face, and he cautiously lets out the breath he was holding._

_Her voice is small. “I don’t know how. I thought I was one thing, and then I find out I am this stupid little…”_

_“That. That’s what I am talking about. You’re not stupid.” If anyone had told Jon an hour ago he would be giving Sansa a pep talk he would have laughed in their face. He was definitely guilty of the occasional fantasy where she begged him for a second chance after realizing he was the one who was too good for her. Fantasies that usually ended with him saying no, although they sometimes led to… other things. But the truth is seeing her suffer has never made him feel better about himself or everything that happened. It does, however, draw forth another emotion he has kept buried under layers of hurt, anger and resentment all these years, and that’s not something he wants to think about._

_Still, he really does want her to be happy. It’s a strange revelation._

  


She fidgets before meeting his eyes. “I came down here to check on you, and all I’ve done is talk about myself.”

“I don’t want to talk about me.” His answer is too quick, and and she knows it means she was right to be worried about him.

“Jon…”

“No. I… Not tonight. Please.” He holds her gaze, and she nods.

“I guess I should head back.” She’s not sure why she said that. She doesn’t actually want to leave, but now she has set the wheels in motion.

“Ok.” He doesn’t say anything else, but he keeps watching her as she gets out of the bed. She’s not sure what it means. She’s almost at the door when she hears him.

“Thank you. For checking on me.”

She turns around and smiles. “Thank you for listening.”


	2. Now what?

The conversation with Sansa left Jon unsettled, and he didn’t know what to do about it. His mind drifted off more than once the following day, and when Robb called him on it Jon didn’t have an answer. What exactly was he supposed to say? ‘Sorry, I was staring at your sister. No, not Arya. The sophisticated one who has always been out of my league.’

No matter how much Jon tried over the years, he never succeeded in being fully indifferent to Sansa. But he still did everything he could to maintain the distance between them. Their talk, however, humanized her. His instinct is to dismiss it as a strange aberration under cover of darkness that will not, and should not, be repeated. Still, he is unable to deny that the new information alters how he thinks about their past. It does not change the fact that she hurt him in ways he may never fully recover from, but perhaps their history wasn’t as black and white as he always believed it to be.

When Theon showed up and suggested a night of drinking and debauchery, Jon enthusiastically endorsed the plan, rather than pointing out that Theon was the only one who really enjoyed debauchery.

Jon now knows that was a mistake.

Instead of numbing his brain, the alcohol made Jon hyper focused on Sansa. It’s not as though he never fantasized about Sansa before. You would have to be blind not to notice her, and even if you were, her smell and sound of her voice should be enough to indicate that she is gorgeous. The inebriated revelation that he can recognize her scent only rattled him further. But those previous fantasies were as much about alleviating his wounded pride as they were about sex. Tonight Jon just… wanted.

So he drank some more. Which is why he is sitting by himself in the kitchen at three in the morning, half drunk and half hungover. Mercifully the latter cut through his angst and his lust. Had he really just spent a whole day obsessing over one conversation with Sansa? Was he really so starved for attention that he was treating their talk like a life changing event? Pinning all his hopes on Sansa hadn’t exactly worked out for him in the past. 

Satisfied that he has finally come to his senses, Jon figures it is time to go to bed and try to sleep off some of the liquor. He gets up, turns off the light, and slams into Sansa as she steps into the room.

The way she ricochets off the cabinet is almost funny, except a) he’s worried he hurt her, and b) he’s surprised the sound doesn’t wake the whole house.

“Shit. Are you alright? Let me…” What exactly? Undo crashing into her?

“No, it’s fine.” She winces, hopping on one foot. “Just… walk it off.” She’s definitely limping. Shit.

  
  


_ Well, that did not go well. Instead of making Sansa pass out, the cocktails and beer left her wide awake, but she resisted going downstairs for a glass of water because she was worried Jon might be up. Apparently she was right. There is a loud thump upstairs. Shit. _

_ “Can we?” She nods towards the basement door, and he ushers her through. Mistake number two. All she had to do was walk back to her room. If anyone asked, she could say she banged into the cabinet. It’s not like they would know or care that it was because she ran into Jon. Now she’s alone with him again, and she still doesn’t have her damn robe. _

_ He watches her shiver, and runs a hand through his hair. “Do you want to?” He indicates towards the bed, and she slides in, hugging as close to the edge as possible. He does the same on the other side. _

_ Jon tries to break the tension after a beat. “This is becoming a habit.” _

_ He may have meant it as a joke, but she pulls her knees up to her chest in embarrassment. _

  
  


This is becoming a habit? What the hell was he thinking? He tries again. “Was there something you wanted to…?”

“I just wanted to get a glass of water.”

Ok. And now you’re in my bed. Again. Jon can’t think of a way to respond that doesn’t make him sound like an ass, but mercifully she continues on her own.

“And then there was a noise. And I figured someone heard us. And… It made sense at the time,” she finishes lamely.

Well, this isn’t at all awkward.

  
  


_ I’m glad we clarified that I am a crazy person. I was worried he was confused about that. “I don’t know why I said so much last night.” Why is she still talking? And why is she talking about this? But she can’t stand the silence. “I know it was probably more than you wanted to hear.” _

_ “It’s fine, Sansa. I’m not going to tell anyone, if that’s what you’re worried about.” _

_ “It’s not that. I don’t normally talk about about what happened with Joffrey. It’s not something I’m proud of.” _

_ “Maybe you should. Talk about it. Maybe it would help.” _

_ She can tell he is sincere, and it almost makes her laugh. If there is anyone who should tell her to go to hell, it’s Jon Snow. And yet, here he is trying to cheer her up after she wormed her way into his bed. Twice. _

_ “Why are you so nice to me?” His head saps up, and she is quick to add: “after everything, most people wouldn’t bother.” _

  
  


Jon is not really sure he deserves credit for a few minutes of civil conversation after years of resentment. Not that the resentment wasn’t somewhat justified. It’s just more complicated than he realized.

“I’m sorry, you know,” she tells him, twisting her hands together over the covers and not meeting his eyes. 

“We were children.”

“I was awful. And I hurt you.”

He can feel his chest tighten. The pain is like an old battle wound. Jon has had it so long that he sometimes forgets it is there, but then something unexpected causes it to flare up. Everything about these past two nights has been unexpected.

“I wanted to hear you say that for a long time.” He waits for her to look up.

“I’ve wanted to say it.”

He inches closer. Whatever is happening, even his booze addled mind knows it’s important they get it right. But she cuts in.

“Did you also want me to admit that you’re too good for me, not the other way around? Because you are.”

He grimaces. After all this time, hearing the words doesn’t make him feel vindicated. It somehow makes him feel worse. “I did want to hear it, but it’s not… It doesn’t...”

“Doesn’t what?”

How can he explain? “It’s not… helpful. You feeling guilty, or beneath me. It doesn’t change anything. It just means you feel bad, and I don’t want that.” He’s shocked to realize he means it. He doesn’t want her hurting, not even over this.

She scoots over to him and reaches up a hand, hesitating a moment before resting it on his arm. “You should be happy Jon. You deserve that.”

“I am, more often than not. But you deserve to be happy too.”

“I am, more often than not.” 

“Good.” Jon slides his arm around her waist and pulls her in close. In some ways holding her is more intimate, but it’s also easier than looking into her eyes. She buries her face in his shoulder, and he let’s the moment wash over him, willing the pain and loneliness to go away, at least for a little while.

  
  


_ Sansa lets his warmth sink into her body. She knows he despised her for years. He may have been good at hiding his feelings from everyone else, but unlike the rest of her family, she knew he had a reason. As a teenager, she tried to ignore the mix of depressed and hostile glances directed her way. Once she discovered who Joffrey really was, and their relationship started chipping away at her self esteem, she began thinking about how she earned those looks from Jon. In a strange way it made things simpler. She could use Jon’s disdain as an excuse not to try and fix things. The pity she saw after getting out of the hospital was harder. It was a reminder that her life could have been very different.  _

_ The fact that Jon was doing great while her world fell apart just twisted the knife. She’s not sure if he knows, but she went to the ceremony when he graduated from law school. Her father had encouraged him to consider corporate law, but she saw the way his eyes lit up whenever he talked about his civil rights classes with Robb or Arya. He could have picked a more lucrative field, but she admires his dedication to making the world better. That’s Jon though. Always doing what is right instead of what is easy. _

_ It took her a long time to trust herself again after Joffrey, but she eventually got to a place she was proud of. Nepotism in the form of some phone calls from her mother may have helped secure her first gallery job, but she worked her ass off to earn the respect of her colleagues. She still has trouble trusting people, and her relationships at work walk the line between friend and friendly acquaintance, but while she may not always love herself, she loves her life. It’s not perfect, but for the first time she is in control. She wills herself not to think about what’s missing as she snuggles closer into Jon.  _

_ Unfortunately, her tipsy mind isn’t very cooperative. This could have been hers. While Sansa turned her back, Ygritte was there for Jon. Sansa saw from a distance what Ygritte did for him. He went from being a boy with a chip on his shoulder to a good and confident man. Yes, some of the sadness crept back in after they broke up, but not the bitterness. Whatever happened, Sansa knew Jon was grateful. Which is why she was so worried about how Ygritte’s death would affect him; why she finally sought Jon out after so many years. _

_ “Ygritte made you happy, didn’t she?” Sansa feels Jon stiffen, but she adds pressure to her grip, hoping if he can’t physically push her away, he won’t do it emotionally. _

_ “For a time.” _

_ Sansa begins making small circles on his bicep with her thumb, willing him to relax. “She helped you.” This time Sansa doesn’t phrase it as a question. _

  
  


Jon lets out a sigh. A small part of his brain wants to resist Sansa, but mostly out of habit. A larger part of him is tired of holding everything in. Or maybe the liquor has loosened his tongue.

“Everyone used to think I was a rebel for rejecting my timer. Robb kept trying to trick me into telling him who set it off.” Sansa doesn’t look at him, but she stops her ministrations. “I guess that’s why everyone thought Ygritte and I were so similar, but I never saw it.” 

In Jon’s mind, he and Ygritte couldn’t be more different. Yes, they both came from broken homes, but while he fought the chaos, she embraced it. She was more than a free spirit. She refused to bow down to anyone or anything. It’s why she aggressively pursued Jon, even though she knew she would meet her soulmate in a few years. She wasn’t going to wait around for some ‘bloody timer’ to tell her what to do with ‘her own damn life.’ For Jon, who always tried to do what was right, her attitude was terrifying. And a blessed relief.

“I was always worried about disappointing people, even though there wasn’t really anyone around who cared.” Sansa squeezes him, and he unconsciously responds by stroking her spine. “And then there was Ygritte, daring people to challenge her. It was addicting.”

“I could tell.” Sansa’s breath is muffled in his shirt. “I hadn’t been home for a while, and when I saw you, you were relaxed. You were always on edge before. I didn’t really notice it until you weren’t.”

He’s surprised she noticed at all. It never occurred to Jon that Sansa might pay attention to him. “Ygritte was always questioning me. I’d tell her I was going to take a class or apply for a job, and she’d ask me why, like it was the stupidest thing she’d ever heard. And it threw me off everytime. I’d tell her it was because it seemed important or someone suggested it, usually your father, and she’d laugh at me and tell me I knew nothing. Never ‘you don’t know anything.’ Always ‘you know nothing.’” 

Sansa’s hand has found the space above his hip between his sweatpants and t-shirt, doing as much to make him dizzy as the alcohol. “I would get so frustrated. But sometimes she was right. There were so many things I did because I thought I was supposed to, not because I wanted to.”

“And she challenged you to figure that out.” Sansa’s voice is even, and Jon wonders what she’s thinking.

“Sometimes. But sometimes she would laugh at things that really were important to me.” Sansa shifts, and he can feel rather than see her frown. He sighs, jostling her so she looks up. “Maybe there were things that I did for the wrong reasons, but I actually did want to be settled. I wanted to have a career and be good at it. She didn’t. She rebelled against everything, and I loved her for it, but I knew we couldn’t last.”

It’s nearly imperceptible, but Jon can see Sansa flinch. His muddled brain plays back his words. He loved Ygritte. It was true. It still is. He has loved her for so long that it’s a part of him. He can’t apologize for that. But he doesn’t know how to explain it either. Jon is surrounded by people who have found their one true love. How can he describe loving someone, and them loving you back, even though it will never work? 

“For someone who resisted everything she thought might tie her down, it was almost cliche how quickly she fell for her soulmate.” Jon watches as Sansa chews on her lip. She clearly hadn’t expected him to talk about this part. “It was like fire meeting gasolene, and there wasn’t oxygen left for anyone else. I wanted to be mad at her, but I couldn’t. It was almost a relief when it happened.” He pauses. That’s not quite right. It sucked at first. A lot. But where it felt like he had nothing when Sansa rejected him, with Ygritte he had a new job he was excited about and friends he cared for. After Ygritte played such a big role in Jon’s life, he was amazed by how quickly being without her felt normal. Painful, but normal.

“Well, maybe it took a bit to get to the relief part. But it had to end. We weren’t…” He tries to find the word. “Sustainable.”

She rolls over so her chest is pressed to his and looks up at him with wide, questioning eyes. He thumbs along her jawline.

“Did you two stay in touch?” 

“Not really. She would occasionally post things about her travels or articles that pissed her off on social media, but there wasn’t a lot for us to say.” He tucks Sansa’s head into the crook of his neck so he doesn’t have to look at her when he admits the next part. “I should miss her more. When I found out she died, I wasn’t so much upset about her being gone as... about this person who once loved me being gone. What does that make me?”

Sansa wraps herself tighter around him. “It means that she had a big impact on your life, and the fact that you feel guilty just shows what a good person you are.”

  
  


_ Sansa will not cry. But between having one too many drinks, being sad for Jon, and being jealous because no one has ever loved her like that, she wants to. Not knowing what else to do to comfort him, she nuzzles the exposed skin along his neck, telling herself it’s an attempt to sooth him. When he tilts her face up to rub his nose against hers, it’s only natural that she would part her lips. And when his mouth meets hers, she should move away. She shouldn’t take advantage of him when he’s vulnerable, but instead she leans in with a moan. _

  
  


God this feels good. Everything about Sansa feels good. It’s been so long since Jon felt a woman like this. Kissing her is like oxygen, and his tongue slips between her lips desperate for more. He’s sick. A second ago he was talking about his former lover’s death, and now he is palming Sansa’s breast and flipping them over so he can press his erection into her thigh. When instead of pushing him away she hooks her other leg around his hip to pull him in closer he grabs the hem of her t-shirt and pulls it off. Only then does he stop.

He wasn’t prepared for her to be this perfect. He can’t take his eyes away from her hard nipples as they rise and fall with each panting breath. Finally her whimper spurs him forward, claiming one peak with his mouth while he feels the weight of the other in his hand.

  
  


_ She needs more of him. She starts forcing his shirt up to expose his abs and chest, but it gets stuck at his shoulders. He rears back to rip it off, and she catches him for a kiss before he can go back to her breasts. He whines, but does not deny her. Sansa smirks into his mouth. So Jon Snow is a boob man. _

  
  


He could continue like this forever, but her hand sneaks under his pants and the feel of her grip on his cock nearly sends him over the edge. So this is how they’re playing it? He grins before reaching down to strip off her leggings and panties together. Some men are into tits. Some are into butts. But Jon has a very specific taste.

  
  


_ All rational thought has left her body. How can a man be this good with his mouth? Her first orgasm is so strong it is almost painful. She wants him inside her. She wants to make him undone the way he made her. _

  
  


She is dripping when he finally slips between her folds. It takes everything he has not to just wildly thrust into her, but then she’s digging her nails into his back and whispering into his ear about how much she wants him and he’s not sure how long he can hold on before…

Fuck.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

“Condom.”

“What?”

“We don’t have one.”

  
  


_ His words barely register. She’s drunk on him and still a bit drunk from earlier. All she knows is that she doesn’t want this to end. Nothing else matters. “I can go to the pharmacy tomorrow.” Don’t think about it. Please don’t think about it. We can think about it in the morning when we’re sober. _

  
  


What is he doing? He is fucking a woman who doesn’t want to be with him, let alone have children with him, like his life depends on it without a condom. A piece of that old anger surfaces just in time for him to pull out.

And come without warning on her stomach. And the side of her chest. And oh god, some of it is in the longer strands of her hair.

  
  


_ Sansa is frozen under Jon’s horrified stare, and the embarrassment crashes over her. Did she really just sneak into Jon’s bed and jump him? What was she thinking? And what does he think of her? _

  
  


Jon looks at the door. At least the basement had a bathroom for Sansa to bolt into after scooping up her clothes. He can hear the water running, but he still hasn’t figured out what to say when it shuts off and she emerges. Thanks for screwing me senseless? Sorry for coming in your hair?

“I should..” She is already half out the door to the stairway.

“Yeah.” Think damnit. “Sansa.” She turns back to him, tense. “Goodnight?”

Her eyes bulge. “Night.”

And with that she flees up the stairs. Jon flops back onto the bed with a groan. Underneath his mortification, he wants her more than ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the wonderful feedback! I originally planned this as a three chapter fic, but I have an idea that may turn it into four. We shall see. Also, I never know how to rate things, and it doesn't help that, while it can be pretty critical to the story, I never feel that comfortable writing smut. Does this feel more like an M or an E?


	3. Christmas Eve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all your comments! After upping the rating for the last chapter, and I kind of leaned into that E in this one…

Sansa tightens her robe, checking the foil packets in the pocket for the umteenth time. She had been nervous all day, and finally went to bed early. She knew she wouldn’t be able to sleep, but it was easier to wait for everyone to turn in on her own than it was to impatiently fidget in plain view.

This is madness. She and Jon haven’t spoken a word to each other since last night. Hell, until dinner they were hardly in the same room after breakfast, when she stumbled into the kitchen late, and he nearly spilled his morning coffee as he scrambled out of his chair. Jon mumbled something about errands before hurriedly grabbing his keys and coat. Luckily, if anyone noticed they probably attributed it to the hangovers both of them were clearly experiencing. When Robb mentioned he wanted to get some extra dog treats and gas up the car before the last stores closed, Sansa jumped at the chance to get out of the house.

Figuring out how to make her purchases without Robb noticing was a challenge. Now, a slight dread sets in as Sansa creeps down the stairs. She has no idea what Jon is thinking, or what he wants. But then she does not know what she wants either. She does not even know if she wants to sleep with him again. Well, certain parts of her definitely want that. Before last night got awkward, it was very, very good. But she is unsure if it was a lingering effect of their broken soulmate connection, or if it was just because he knows how to get a woman off. Or, was it because their connection isn’t as broken as she always assumed? The only thing she is certain of is that she does not want to be caught unprepared again. That, and they need to talk. They probably should have talked before she fled back to her room, but she panicked and he didn’t exactly stop her. Whatever they did, if it was a drunken mistake or something else, they cannot pretend it didn’t happen.

  
  


_ Jon feels like an idiot. He is sitting in bed, alone, waiting to see if Sansa will show. She disappeared early in the evening, and while he had been loathe to even make eye contact while surrounded by her family, he now wishes he had at least asked for some indication as to whether or not they were going to discuss what happened. _

_ He groans into his hands. Without any distractions, his mind bounces between mortification at how things had ended and vivid images of everything that came before. So much for impressing her. Now he waffles between never wanting to see her again and fearing he will start following her around like a horny puppydog.  _

_ Jon made some excuse in the morning about needing to pick up a few things in order to get a little time to himself. He absently drove to the drugstore, but it was only when he wandered past the condoms that he realized there was another reason he was so eager to leave the house. _

_ Well fuck. Literally and figuratively. _

_ Does he buy them and risk looking like he expects something? And what if she decides once was enough? Aside from the appeal of bedding a beautiful woman, is this even a road he wants to go down? Jon doesn’t like to admit it, but he is lonely. While he has been on a few dates since Ygritte, there’s an emptiness that comes with not having a partner that sex can’t fill. But at least it takes the edge of. _

_ This is Sansa though. Their history is much more complicated than his few encounters with women waiting to meet their soulmate, who have lost their soulmate, or in one unexpected instance, who indulge in cuckold fetishes with their soulmate -- which Jon did not know until she started scribbling down notes to share when she got home. _

_ Would it even be possible for him and Sansa to keep things casual, or do they have too much baggage? Would he even want that with her? In Jon’s limited experience, casual dating has never really left him happy. And outside of his nonexistent love life, he is in a good place. The possibility of something more with Sansa is… dangerous. _

_ After staring at the rack long enough for a sales clerk to notice, Jon grabbed a box with a scowl, paid, and spent another thirty minutes driving aimlessly before heading back. _

_ So he waits. In bed. With a box of condoms in the nightstand. Unsure if he even wants to use them, let alone what he will say if Sansa makes an appearance. _

_ And then the door squeaks open and she slips inside. _

  
  


He is staring at her, eyes wide. She instinctively walks to her side of the bed, but then stops. It’s not really her side, and it’s not as though he invited her to join him. However, standing over Jon isn’t any better, so she tries to find some middle ground, gingerly sitting on top of the covers.

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

“Last night… Jon… It’s not… We need to talk.” Great start. She’s made him tense up even further. Sansa had no trouble finding words last night when she was begging him for more, but now she can barely form a sentence. “Not bad talk. Just maybe not wait another ten years either.” She tries to smile at him, and is relieved when he seems to find the humor in her statement.

Jon rubs the back of his neck and glances sideways at her. “Ah, no. That wouldn’t be very… adult of us.”

Sansa tries to relax into the headboard. Her fingers itch to reach out to him in an attempt to recreate some of their alcohol fueled intimacy. Not necessarily the sexual intimacy, but the ease in each others presence they never experienced before. 

“I wasn’t exactly prepared and I didn’t mean to,” he gestures with one hand, “in your hair. Sorry.”

“It’s fine.” Her answer is quick. At least he tried to be responsible about birth control, unlike her. “It’s normal.” He stares. Oh god. Did she just imply it’s normal for guys to come in her hair? This is not going well.

“It’s just, ah, I never imagined things ending that badly.”

Sansa is caught off guard. “You imagined it before?”

  
  


_ Smooth, Jon chides himself. It sounds like you’ve been carrying a torch for her all these years. “You didn’t think about it?” Jon knows he is probably just digging himself in deeper, but he can’t resist knowing what is going on inside her head. _

_ “Sort of.” She has that sad look again, and she pulls at the sleeves of her robe. “I was always afraid to let my mind go too far down that path. I didn’t want to think about what might have been.” _

_ “Sansa Stark,” he teases, trying to make her smile, “slumming it with the unwashed masses.” But his words don’t have the effect he intended.  _

_ “You don’t have to remind me what a brat I was.” Her biting tone does not entirely mask the hurt. “At some point I realized I might have had a hot and accomplished man, but instead I hitched myself to a sadistic bastard. And yes, I said you are hot. You must have a mirror at home. This can’t be a surprise.”  _

_ Jon feels like an ass. While he spent the day thinking about sex, she was clearly grappling with the larger issue of what they mean to each other. “I didn’t mean to… I assumed you didn’t care.” And now he’s made it worse. But what did she expect? “Until two nights ago you never gave me any indication that you did.” _

  
  


Sansa wishes she could start over. Or just be angry at him. But that would be taking the easy way out. Instead she tries to collect her thoughts. “You seemed better off without me.” She holds up a hand. “I know; I didn’t ask. I was a big, fat chicken. But I don’t regret it either. I’m sorry, but I needed that time to put myself back together.” It might not be fair, but it’s the truth.

“I get that.” Jon sounds sincere. “I needed Ygritte to pull myself together after…well, after you.” 

Sansa wishes she could hold Jon again, but she’s not brave enough to try. Not yet. “And you did. And I did. And then last night we skipped a whole bunch of steps.” They could easily spend hours rehashing the past decade, and maybe they should, but they have some very recent history they need to address.

“Do you regret it?” Sansa shakes her head at his question. “Me either.” This time it’s Jon who sneaks closer.

Sansa holds his gaze. “We should have talked first though, right? We can’t just get naked and pretend everything is ok?”

Jon moves a hand towards her, but then takes it back before it reaches its destination. “I don’t know Sansa. Dissecting everything could also open old wounds.”

“So we pretend it never happened?”

Jon lets out an exasperated sigh, but Sansa isn’t very sympathetic. He can’t have it both ways. 

“That’s not what I mean, it’s just… difficult.”

“And last night was easy.” She meant that as a barb, but when she sees Jon blush she can’t help but smile.

He looks her straight in the eyes “I was pretty easy.”

  
  


_ God her smile is beautiful. Fine, they need to talk. But... “maybe we need this too.” _

_ “Sex?” Her voice is half teasing, half warning. _

_ “Being happy. Spending time together without being miserable.” He is not necessarily trying to make a move on her, but after two days of obsessing over Sansa Stark, which were preceded by ten plus years of heartache, it feels unexpectedly good to let it all go. _

_ “So you didn’t rush out today to buy condoms for round two.” _

_ Jon freezes. He did, but not like that. Or maybe like that, but he doesn’t want her to know. Shit. And now she’s laughing. But it’s not just laughing. She’s doubled over, eyes watering, practically convulsing. Yes, Jon Snow was stupid enough to think she might want to fuck him again. He starts to pull away, but she grabs his wrist and tosses something between them. _

_ Condoms. Three of them. What the hell? _

  
  


“It’s just… You don’t…” She tries to catch her breath long enough to explain that she is not making fun of him. “You have no idea what I went through to get those.” Jon just stares at the packets in confusion, and finally she reaches over and tilts his chin up. “It was mortifying.”

“You know, they say if you are too embarrassed to buy condoms, you probably shouldn’t be having  sex.”

“What about buying them in front of your big brother, who might ask questions about why you need them?” Sansa can see a small amount of fear creep into Jon’s eyes.

“Don’t worry, Robb’s doesn’t have a clue. Or if he does, it’s definitely the wrong one.” Somehow Jon’s dazed face is adorable.

“We stopped at a gas station, and I told him I was going to buy some gum. But I wasn’t very smooth about it, and he definitely noticed.” That’s an understatement. Even after she got inside, she could feel Robb watching her. Which was a problem. “The only condoms they had were at the register, which was in plain view even from outside. I panicked. I bought the gum, but asked for my change in quarters. Then I went into the bathroom, which was cleaner than I expected, and mercifully had a dispenser.”

Jon is starting to catch on, and Sansa can see the snickers shake his shoulders. She snorts, but manages not to dissolve into another fit. “So I am in the bathroom, feeding quarters into the machine, and by now Robb is finished and is waiting for me.”

Jon can’t hold his amusement in any longer. “You bought condoms in a gas station bathroom…”

“With my brother outside, probably worried that I was having a massive bowel attack.”

That causes Jon to lose it, and he reaches over to pull her in close, muffling his chuckles in her hair. Finally. She loops her arms around him. But one thing prevents her from fully enjoying the moment.

“It wasn’t because I came down here to have sex with you. I just…” She tilts her head up to look at Jon, and he presses his forehead into hers.

“Wanted to be prepared.”

“Right.”

“Me too.”

Sansa pulls back and smiles at him. “We should talk.” They should. Jon nods, but his expression is unsure, and Sansa dreads breaking up the warmth they have established. “But I don’t want to mess things up again.”

“We won’t.” Jon assures her, but his gaze falls to her lips, and heat spreads through Sansa’s stomach.

“What if I don’t want to talk?” That’s all the incentive Jon needs to kiss her, and Sansa eagerly responds.

  
  


_ They do need to talk, but right now Jon needs this more. Or at least, he wants this more. And it thrills him that, even if she is just as unsure as he is, she wants it too. He chuckles. “Gas station condoms.” _

_ “Stop it.” She playfully slaps his shoulder, but he catches her wrist, and holding eye contact, slowly brings her fingers to his mouth, sucking on one, then two together. Her eyes get dark and her breathing becomes shallow. So perfect, Jon thinks to himself, as he moves to kiss the pulse point in her neck. Sansa lets out another glorious laugh, and moves to straddle him, grinding down into his hips.  _

  
  


Sansa is humming with nervous energy, but instead of making her hesitant, it makes her silly. This is fun. Sansa is not sure if sex has ever been fun before. Excluding the painful memories, sex has been desperate, hot, overwhelming, and even boring, but never fun. She giggles as Jon fumbles with her robe and many layers; teases him as she pulls off his shirt to explore his body, and nips at him when his light touch tickles her sides. Sansa has never been carefree and happy like this. Her heart swells with something she might try to identify if she wasn’t so busy just enjoying it.

  
  


_ Somehow they have managed to get tangled in the sheets, blankets, and her robe. Jon huffs as he tries to reach more of her skin, finally grabbing as much fabric as he can and throwing it off the bed while Sansa cackles. But then she lifts her hips so he can remove her soaked panties and pulls him back down so she can wrap herself around him. _

_ He flips them over so she is on top, bringing her hips up to his head. She looks at him quizzically for a moment before gripping the headboard for support as he nuzzles her thighs further apart to find her center. _

  
  


Her first orgasm washes over her as she rides him. When she looks down, she can see him smirking up from between her legs, clearly pleased with himself. She can’t help but smile. But then she slides down his body, and the veins in his neck and forehead throb as he tries to maintain his self control.

That won’t do at all.

She leans down to whisper in his ear, telling him how desperate she is to feel him inside her. He snaps. The next thing she knows she is on her back, but he waits for her permission before going any further. She reaches down to grasp him, watching as his eyes roll back.

“Condom.”

‘What?”

She laughs, loving how he is losing himself in her. “We should probably use one this time.” He snorts, and rolls over to the nightstand before looking back at her.

“Unless you want to put your faith in the gas station?”

She crawls after him for a quick kiss, and he fumbles in the drawer for the box. She insists on being the one to put it on him, allowing herself a few extra pumps first while he whimpers. And then he fills her up, using one hand to rub her above where they are joined.

  
  


_ He he goes slowly, even while his body begs him to take her hard and fast, delaying and drawing out their pleasure. But when he feels her walls contract around him, he knows he can’t last much longer. He collapses half on top of her, half beside her, utterly spent and sated. He brushes her hair back so he can see her face. She is biting her lip and blushing, and he knows he is grinning from ear to ear. _

_ It takes them a bit to find a comfortable position to sleep. They have never done this before. But Jon finally settles as the big spoon and drifts drifts off, only to be awoken a few hours later when Sansa shifts. It’s difficult to make out her figure in the dark, but he allows a hand to trail over her curves. Her breathing changes as she starts to wake up, and he stills. But then she pushes her glorius bum back into him. Some fumbling in the dark, and soon he is sheathed in her again, nuzzling her neck as she moans in encouragement. _

  
  


The basement window doesn’t let in much light, but there is enough for Sansa to see that morning is fast approaching. She gently rolls over to look at Jon’s sleeping face, and chuckles as his eyes slowly blink open. It clearly takes him a second to figure out where he is, but once he does he holds her close, a sheepish smile on his face.

Sansa lets a hand linger on his cheek. “Merry Christmas.” But then she falters. “I didn’t get you anything.” She’s not sure why she is so horrified. Every year the ‘kids’ do a secret Santa gift exchange. Sansa traded the few times she drew Jon over the years, and she imagines he did the same. Jon always brings something extra for Catelyn, even though he is closer to Ned. But Sansa and Jon have never gotten gifts for each other, and she suddenly finds it embarrassing.

Jon, however, takes it as an invitation. He taunts her as he covers her body with his own: “I’m sure we can figure something out.”

Interesting. Jon is feisty in the morning. Sansa can work with that. “Did you get me something?” she asks innocently, snaking a hand down to palm his rapidly hardening cock. “Something big?”

Jon lets out a bark. “Wow Sansa, I didn’t know you could be so…”

She can see him hesitate, and decides to lean into the campiness. “Be so… what? I just want my present.” She hasn’t let go of her grip, but her mouth twitches as she struggles to keep a straight face.

Jon dissolves into a fit of snickers and needy whines. “Tacky. I did not know you could be so tacky.” 

She flips them over so she can be on top. The room is  frigid, but after learning how good it feels to ride him last night, she wants another go this morning. Jon looks up at her with sleepy, adoring eyes. They can do this, right? Whatever this is? So what if they have a complicated history. They’re adults. It doesn’t have to be a big deal, or super dramatic. A part of her knows she is minimizing the truth, but she isn’t ready to deal with what they are to each other. Right now, she just wants to be happy.

  
  


_ Jon knows he has to let Sansa go back upstairs before the rest of the house wakes up, but everytime she tries to leave he drags her, laughing, back to bed. At some point they will have to face reality, but so long as they are in this room they can push it to the side and just enjoy each other’s company. Naked company. _

_ When the house starts to stir, however, he knows time is up. He still can’t help touching her as she dresses, and stealing one final kiss. Sansa pauses at the door. _

_ “We’re still going to talk about this, right?” There’s a hint of nervousness in her voice.  _

_ “Right.” There are too many endorphins coursing through Jon’s veins for him to have a serious conversation, but he isn’t going to pretend the last two nights didn’t happen either. _

_ “You should open a window.” _

_ “Sansa, it’s freezing outside. Below freezing, actually.” _

_ “I know it’s just...” She turns an incredible shade of red. “It smells like sex in here.” She is panting slightly, and it takes all of Jon’s will power not to go after her again. Once she’s gone, he sinks back into the bed. The spell is starting to break, but he isn’t ready to think about what they’ve done. Instead he rolls over and groans into one of the pillows. Everything smells like her. And like sex. It’s equal parts amazing and terrifying. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is more or less where I originally intended to end this fic. They never were going to solve everything in three days, and they certainly aren’t ready to declare their undying love for each other. BUT they are talking (albeit not enough yet), and they have found some common ground (still mostly between the sheets). That said, I am tempted to check in on them a bit further down the road. So at some point I may add another chapter set a month or two in the future. We shall see.


	4. Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the encouragement! It looks like I had some ideas to keep exploring after all. That said, writing this chapter was like pulling teeth, and I am still not entirely happy with it. Let me know if parts don’t make sense. Also, moving them out of the basement required SO. MUCH. EXPOSITION. Sorry about that. I tried to zip through it as quickly as possible without making it feel too forced. There are a few blink and you’ll miss them references to other characters and bits of backstory.

Sansa sits on the couch, captivated by the play of light and shadow on the wall in front of her. She and Jon have been doing whatever it is that they are doing for nearly two months now, but this is the first time she has been to his house. At first she didn’t notice. Whenever they went out, they always ended up back at her apartment. It was closer to downtown and ‘more central.’ Wouldn’t she have to go back to her place pick up something regardless? So why not just stay there? What about Ghost, Jon’s massive husky? Don’t worry, the elusive Sam, who Sansa has never met, was happy to check  on him.

But those excused didn’t make sense when Jon refused to spend the long weekend at his place, or when he dashed back to the outskirts of the city for an early morning run with Ghost. Eventually Sansa was forced to admit the truth; Jon didn’t want her in his home.

She was stunned. While their status was still undefined, it was hard to reconcile his apparent eagerness to be part of her life with his unwillingness to share his own. Even though Jon warned her about his lack of knowledge or taste in art, he seemed happy to attend the opening of a new exhibit at her gallery, where he mingled with her coworkers in his own charmingly awkward way, and acted genuinely interested when she explained the pieces. But while he discussed his cases and clients, she never met any of his colleagues or friends. And if she happened to gently suggest such a meeting, his response ranged from cagey to defensive.

Then Sam called in the middle of their Saturday brunch to cancel - something about a woman named Gilly, a sick child, and an impending snowstorm. Once again, Jon tried to brush aside Sansa’s offer to go back to his place, but this time she called him out on his refusal to share even the smallest piece of his world with her. He tried to dodge the accusation, but he couldn’t deny it. Sansa hadn’t intended to be so blunt, but she was hurt. It was frightening how easily Jon fit into her life, and she even caught herself imagining a future where they moved past their respective pain and shared the sort of soulmate bond she dreamed of as a child, before Joffrey taught her just how cruel life could be.  

Sansa wanted Jon to feel the same, but she hadn’t meant to force him. At the same time though, Sansa spent years putting Joffrey’s needs first; telling herself that her own emotions were unreasonable or unfair. While Jon is the exact opposite of Joffrey in most ways, when Sansa finally walked away from Joffrey she promised herself she would never allow another person to make her feel weak.

The thrill of victory was short lived. Sansa spent the tense car ride second guessing herself and trying to figure out how to be pleasant and unobtrusive, so as not to disrupt Jon’s life. Maybe then Jon wouldn’t be so reluctant to let her be part of it. The darkening clouds outside suggested she was fooling herself.

Once they arrived, however, all her plans went out the window. Sansa knew Jon bought a house with some money he inherited from a grandfather he never met, or even knew about. She was not prepared for it to be so perfect. While Jon walked Ghost, she wandered through the downstairs before finally sinking into a dark gray couch in front of a massive picture window.

Technically, the house is still in the city, nestled above a small creek that gives it the feeling of being in the woods. The high ceilings and large windows mean lots of natural light, but it is still small enough to feel cozy. In her mind, Sansa is already adding furnishings from last year’s design expo, and imagining where to place smaller figurines and stoneware from the crafts exhibition. The wall in front of her would be the perfect place to hang a painting given to her by an artist with a scarred face after she arranged his first show.

Luckily, aside from the painting, none of the pieces actually belong to her. Redecorating is the exact opposite of unobtrusive. Sansa itches to see the upstairs, and can already imagine long, leisurely mornings with Jon, or curling up with him in front of the fire on a winter evening - much like the one currently descending. 

From there her mind ventures into increasingly racy territory, and she tries to push down the images as the door opens and the Ghost comes bounding towards her, jumping up to lick at her face. Sansa indulges him, running her hands through his fur and laughing at his antics. She never got over her own dog Lady’s sudden death when she and Joffrey were moving out of university housing and into one of the few pet friendly buildings near campus. She misses having a canine companion.

“Ghost, get off her.” 

 

_ Perfect. Not even twenty minutes in and Ghost’s dirty paw prints already decorate Sansa’s blouse. Jon grits his teeth as he searches for a rag or old t-shirt to clean up the mess. Normally the house feels embarrassingly large for one person, but now it seems incredibly small, what with Sansa sitting primly in the living room, staring off space and, he assumes, bored out of her mind. _

_ Jon grunts in frustration as he wrestles with his husky and tries to restore some semblance of order to the entryway. In a lifetime of frugality, Jon’s home is his one extravagance, and he loves it. The inheritance came as a shock. His father wasn’t exactly good at staying in one place, or with one woman, and Jon always assumed the succession of foster homes meant he had no other family. But then a private investigator hired by Jon’s aunt Dany changed all that. Apparently the lure of finding her only remaining relative outweighed keeping her father’s money for herself, which surprised Jon in retrospect, because Dany didn’t exactly hold her family in high regard. Dany’s father and middle brother were both abusive, and her eldest brother, Jon’s father, was too self absorbed to consider intervening. A series of boarding schools kept Dany away from home, and she has never been able to settle long in one place since.  _

_ In some ways they had very similar backgrounds, but Dany grew up with wealth and all the possibilities that come with it, while Jon was left to fend for himself. At first Jon wanted to refuse the bequest, and Dany was flabbergasted. For her, money was something that was always around, and she couldn’t understand why Jon was so uncomfortable taking something he didn’t earn.  _

_ Then he happened on the ‘for sale’ sign by chance while hiking with Ghost. It was hard to think in the city center with everyone rushing around, and despite morning runs and weekends in the park, Jon always felt bad leaving Ghost cooped up all day. Everything about the house was perfect. Jon could hear Ygritte’s voice in the back of his head, mocking him for his bourgeois taste, but she had left a few months earlier. Dany coaxed Jon into buying it, and despite his initial doubts, he never regretted it. _

_ But while his house may seem massive to Jon, it was tiny compared to the Stark residence, where all five children have their own bedrooms and bathrooms, with extra guest rooms to spare. As much as Robb, Ned, and Arya tried to make him feel welcome, just seeing the mansion was a reminder that he didn’t really belong in their world. _

_ The last couple months with Sansa felt like an alternate reality, where all of their differences melted away. Now, having her in his home destroys the fantasy. Sansa is refined, and cultured, and born to live among high society.  Her colleagues were friendly enough when Jon met them, and he didn’t feel nearly as out of place as he expected. But seeing Sansa in her element only reinforced how shabby his life is by comparison. Her eye for detail was astounding, and her enthusiastic explanations of the artwork were enough to make a neophyte like Jon excited. He couldn’t believe that this stunning woman was speaking to him, let alone that she brought him as her date to the opening. It was surreal. _

_ Jon may have flirted with the upper crust through the Starks, but although he was left unsatisfied by the more iconoclast aspects of Ygritte’s lifestyle, he never actually aspired to wealth. Comfortable is enough for him, and he doesn’t want to look around his home and see outdated fixtures, older appliances, and whatever else Sansa will probably notice. _

_ Jon tosses the rag on the washing machine and heads back to Sansa. He knows he should offer to give her a tour, but he’s not in the mood to watch her judge his home, or worse, pity him. _

 

Jon is practically sparking with resentment when he enters the room, and Sansa knows it should make her wary. It definitely should not arouse her, but the tension in his face only draws her eye to his perfect jawline, while his crossed arms accentuate his shoulders. She needs to get to the bottom of his ire, but what she really wants to do is meet his anger with her own fear, and fuck him until they both sink into oblivion.

But that’s part of their problem. The sex was amazing from the beginning, and at first it provided a necessary bridge past their respective hurts, anxiety, and mistrust. At some point however, it became a crutch, a way of not dealing with issues that make them uncomfortable. Now Sansa is falling hard for Jon, and she’s not sure if he is there with her. And the thought that she is too far gone to pull herself back terrifies her. Maybe coming here was a mistake. Just one small glimpse into Jon’s world, and she’s ready to move in.

Jon licks his lips, and Sansa can feel herself being pulled towards the easy solution. It would be so simple to put the hard truths off for one more day, and just enjoy being with this beautiful man in this beautiful place while she can.

“So, what do you want to do now?” The edge in Jon’s voice is all it takes, and the words are out of Sansa’s mouth before she can even consider them.

“What do you want to do to me?”

 

_ How is it possible for one woman to hold such power over him? All it takes is a one sentence, and all of Jon’s defenses break down. He tries to grasp onto some of his annoyance at Sansa for basically inviting herself over, but when she leans back into the cushions, her fiery hair bright against the flurries that are beginning to thicken outside, he can feel his resolve crumbling. His words come out harsher than he intended. _

_ “Nothing nice.” Wow, he really is a bastard. But Sansa holds his gaze, a challenge in her eyes. _

_ “Tell me.” _

_ Every perverted fantasy he ever had about Sansa flashes before Jon. He doesn’t want to be an ass anymore. He wants her to enthusiastically act out any one of the images in his mind, and something in her look tells him she just might. _

_ Still, he hesitates, letting the silence draw out before finally giving in. _

_ “I want you, bent over the table in the kitchen.” _

_ She smiles slightly, and Jon feels like a string about to snap. _

_ “I want you, in your bed, when we have lost track of time and you think you don’t have anything left to give. But I’m not done with you yet.” _

_ Jon can feel his cock start to strain against his pants, taking away his ability to second guess his words. “I want you, on the balcony upstairs, where the trees mostly shield us from view but there is still a small possibility of being seen.”  _

_ He didn’t even realize he crossed over to Sansa as he spoke, but she is pulling him down next to her and throwing a leg over his lap to straddle him. She threads her hands through his hair, and he’s not sure if she means to hold him in place or anchor herself. _

_ “I want you right now, on this couch, where I can see the snow falling outside.” _

_ Her lips turn up, challenging him, and he is done for. Jon hungrily fits his mouth to hers, reaching under her shirt to find her nipple hard and waiting. He wants to take it slow, to push her to the edge and watch her fall over it again and again, but she is having none of it. Jon isn’t entirely certain what is driving her, but whatever it is, he understands there is nothing for him to do but give in. He’s not sure which one of them gasps the loudest when she manages to move enough clothing out of the way to sink down onto him. She is demanding as she rides him, and he is happy to oblige, finding her nub with his thumb and swallowing her moans as she takes him deeper. _

 

Sansa stretches on the mattress, too spent to fully turnover. They didn’t get to the table or the balcony, but she got both her wishes. Yet even with a sated, post-coital Jon tenderly stroking her back, the nagging doubts prevent her from fully relaxing. 

“You were angry with me.” He stills. “For coming here.”

Jon pulls her into his body. “I was being stupid.” He presses his lips into her hair, and holds her tighter. It’s not enough though. This time, instead of repressing her fears, sex has left her feeling raw and exposed. 

“I  know you didn’t want me to come here.”

 

_ Shit. He could have at least tried to be more subtle in his defensiveness. He built up this idea of her disdain in his head, and right now he can’t even remember why. What exactly did he think she was going to do? Mock him to his face? Having her in his bed feels right. Like she was always supposed to be here. _

_ “I was being stupid.” He can feel rather than see her frustration. “I’ve never had anything nice that was mine. This place might be nothing compared to what you’re used to, but to me...” _

_ “You thought I would look down at you?” She pushes him away and starts to untangle the sheet to cover herself. Jon tries to reach out for her arm, but she shies away. He settles for placing a hand on her hip to at least maintain some level of intimacy. _

_ “No. I didn’t think it through. It was more of a… gut reaction.” Sansa looks at him, unconvinced. “I want you here. I just… was scared. I was scared you wouldn’t like it, and I didn’t know how to handle it.” The truth was Jon never really analyzed why he didn’t want to bring Sansa back to his place, or consider what his actions would look like to her.  _

_ He watches Sansa unconsciously pick at the edge of the sheet, not meeting his eyes. Jon has seen that gesture before, but only when she is alluding to some of her worst memories with Joffrey. His heart constricts. _

_ “Look at me.” Jon can hear the desperation creeping into his voice, and when her gaze shifts up he wants to hold her and never let go. He wants to kick his own ass. He hurt her. He was so worried about being rejected that it never occurred to him to worry about her.  _

_ “So you never gave me a chance?” _

_ “I didn’t think. I wish I’d known. I wish…” But he didn’t know. He should have, and the guilt is killing him, but while Sansa may have hinted that she was upset, she wasn’t direct with him either. “I wish you had said something.” It wasn’t fair, asking her to trust him when he had not trusted her, but there it was. _

_ “I was afraid of scaring you off.” _

_ This time she allows him to wrap himself around her. “I don’t want you to be afraid of me.” _

_ “I’m not.” Her voice is a bit muffled in his chest, and she leans away to look at him. “I just don’t know what you want.” _

_ He can see the doubt in her eyes, but he still can’t admit the truth. What he wants is to fuse himself to her permanently, and it is absolutely terrifying. Whatever they could be, he gave up on it long ago. And while part of him isn’t ready to open that door again, when he looks at her he worries that it is already too late. “I am afraid that you will leave me.” _

_ “So you pushed me away?” _

_ “I told you I was being stupid.” _

_ She strokes his cheek, looking pensive. “We need to trust each other. Both of us.” It’s clear the last part is meant as an admonishment of herself too, not just him.  _

_ He catches her hand and brings it to his lips. “Yes, but I think this one is mostly on me.” _

_ She smirks. “I was trying to be polite.” _

_ Jon steals a quick kiss and moves to cover her body with his own, trapping her beneath him. “This house is special to me.” _

_ “You really thought I wouldn’t like it?” _

_ “It’s not exactly what you’re used to.” _

_ “What? My shitty studio, which is all I can afford at my job?” Her voice is incredulous. He never thought of it that way.  _

_ “I wouldn’t call it shitty…” Not by his standards. It’s a three story climb without an elevator to get to her apartment, but it’s clean and everything works. Still, it’s not as though she has been living extravagantly. _

_ She rolls her eyes. “You know what I mean. It’s not the lap of luxury either.” She’s not chastising him, but Jon feels foolish for letting his old ideas about Sansa get in the way of what they have now. “Maybe you were right not to show me this place,” she continues, trailing a leg up his side. “Because I am tempted to change the locks next time you leave and keep it for myself.” _

_ Jon laughs as he moves in to kiss her, but she stops him. “I’m serious. And I’m taking Ghost too.” He looks at Sansa, and can see that a part of her isn’t joking about wanting to stay, causing a warmth to spread in his stomach. “Even if I do allow you to return, I will be making a few small changes…” _

_ This time he captures her lips before she finishes. She can change whatever she wants. All he knows is that he wants her here with him forever. And he plans on proving it to her, if they ever leave this bed. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was originally reluctant to add this chapter because it required introducing more angst. They are currently at the two steps forward, half a step back phase. That said, one thing I like about the soulmate trope is that it (hopefully) ends happily ever after, and that’s not where I left chapter 3. I can’t guarantee that I will tie everything in a neat bow, but I do intend to write one more chapter that will hopefully show that Jon and Sansa will get their own version of a happily ending. Warning -- it may take me a while. Also, I was going to call this chapter ‘Sansa Falls in Love,’ but that seemed a bit too misleading.


	5. Ready

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After being so unsure about how to end this fic, I was shocked by how easy it was to write this chapter. I hope you enjoy!

Sansa is seething as she hustles Jon into the kitchen. What was Robb thinking? Outside of movies, who punches their best friend like that without warning? She has seen enough violent outbursts in her life. Robb’s misplaced wrath didn’t do anything to protect her, and it sure as hell didn’t make her feel safe or loved.

She pushes Jon into the nearest chair, ignoring his protests as she snatches a dish towel and begins rummaging in the freezer for some ice. Mercifully there are only a few drops of blood, but she can see the swelling has already begun. It’s only when Jon grabs her hands and pulls them away from his split lip that his words even register.

“Stop. Just stop for a second.” He catches her gaze, and slowly her breathing returns to normal.

 

_ That was definitely not how Jon wanted the Starks to learn about Sansa and him. While technically she is still leasing the studio downtown, he can’t remember the last time she spent the night there. Her belongings quickly became dispersed among his own, and it thrills him when he finds her mug or book on a shelf, or even when he trips over the yoga mat she forgot to roll up. His friends won’t stop teasing him about how strange it is to see brooding Jon Snow mooning over a girl, but he can tell they are also a bit relieved that the mystery of his lovelife appears, at long last, to be solved. They are out as a couple everywhere but here with Sansa’s family, and while Jon knows they should have told them by now, a part of him enjoys sneaking around like teenagers, sharing secret looks and touches. _

_ That’s why he couldn’t resist when he saw Sansa setting the table while everyone else was outside enjoying the return of spring. He only meant to lean in for a quick kiss, but she tasted so good. Before he knew it he was pressing her into the table and she was grabbing his ass to pull him in closer. _

_ Jon didn’t even hear Robb come in. One second he was lost in Sansa, and the next something was grabbing his shoulder and spinning him around. Jon immediately saw the rage in Robb’s eyes, and instinctively brought his hands up. “It’s not what you think.” _

_ Jon didn’t try to deflect the blow, and it wasn’t until he heard Sansa’s terrified shriek that it occurred to him to be upset. Nothing compared to Robb’s anger through. _

_ “That makes it worse, you bastard. She’s not one of your playthings.” _

_ The commotion started to draw the others inside. “You stay here,” Sansa hissed at her brother before dragging Jon into the kitchen. Whatever look accompanied her words was enough to keep Robb from following. The murmuring on the other side of the door slowly begins to fade. The last voice Jon can make out sounds like Arya. “I can’t believe you didn’t figure it out already.” _

_ Jon tries to talk to Sansa, but she is clearly too indignant to listen. Under other circumstances it might be sexy. It’s only when he pulls the ice away from his face that she actually focuses on him. _

_ “I can’t believe he did that. He knows you. He knows you would never…” _

_ “Take advantage?” _

_ “Yes! What the hell…” Jon squeezes her hands before she gets caught up again. _

_ “He thinks I would take advantage.” Sansa furrows her brow, and Jon continues. “He thinks I refused my soulmate. All the guys do.” When Robb and Theon realized Jon’s timer had gone off, they wouldn’t stop badgering him about it, which only made the pain of Sansa’s rejection worse. Jon was too embarrassed to admit the truth, so he hid behind a mask of indifference, which overtime earned him a strange sort of respect. “They were all a bit in awe of me. I never actually lied, but it was easier to let them believe the fiction than admit the truth.” _

_ “That your soulmate was the one who… That it was the other way around” Sansa looks deflated, and Jon reaches up to brush a strand of hair out of her face. Their past hasn’t haunted them like this in a while, but it occasionally still crops up. _

_ “Not that actually.” Jon gives her a small smile. “It was easier than getting ribbed for being single. They all thought I was some sort of ladies man, even though Theon dated way more than I did. Hell, Robb dated more than I did.” As they got older and more of their peers bonded with their soulmates, Jon’s continued bachelorhood only solidified his reputation, even though his love life after Ygritte wasn’t particularly notable. “I guess it gave me an air of mystery.” Jon can see Sansa softening, and he wags his eyebrows at her, causing her to snicker despite herself. _

_ “He wouldn’t think that if he knew the truth.” Her voice is serious, and a sense of dread begins to fill Jon’s stomach. _

_ “That might be worse.” _

 

How could the truth be worse? Sansa can’t imagine anyone thinking Jon is less than honorable, but even if her brother is that much of an idiot, knowing that Jon is supposed to be her soulmate should make Robb realize just how stupid he is acting.

Jon lets go of her hands, and she is cold without him. He refuses to meet her eyes. “Sansa, if I had just told everyone when we met, none of of the stuff with Joffrey would have happened.”

Rage explodes in Sansa’s chest.

She’s not sure why she is so angry. She’s the one who, at thirteen, frantically begged Jon not to say anything. She’s the one who kept up the charade. It took Sansa a long time to stop blaming herself for what happened with Joffrey. She isn’t about to let Jon start claiming her decisions, let alone her destructive guilt. Especially not now when they are finally moving past it all. She can’t keep the edge out of her voice as she tilts Jon’s chin up so he’s looking directly at her. “That was my choice. You had no way of knowing what was going to happen.”

“That doesn’t mean it’s not true.”

“It doesn’t matter. And I’ll take on Robb or anyone else who tries to blame you for that.” 

Jon smirks, but Sansa can tell he is not entirely convinced. Would things have worked out differently if he said something all those years ago? Of course. But Sansa can’t even envision what that alternate reality would be like. Back then she was teetering between being a child and a teenager, far too self absorbed to comprehend, let alone empathize, with what Jon was going through. As for Jon, under his aloof exterior he was an insecure and defensive adolescent who had not yet learned how to let go of real or imagined hurts. Sansa worries about his tendency to bottle up his emotions, and while she wants to share their respective burdens, Jon is the type of person to shoulder other people’s pain as well as his own.

Still, instead of resisting her arguments he encircles her waist and whispers: “you really would go toe to toe with Robb, wouldn’t you?”

She presses her forehead to Jon’s and breathes him in. “Damn straight. It took us too long to get here. I’m not letting anything get in our way.”

 

_ How did he get so lucky? Good things aren’t supposed to happen to him. On some level Jon knows that’s not entirely true. He was fortunate that Ned kept an eye on him when no other adult did, opening doors and nudging him towards an education. The revelation of a lost family and his inheritance feels more like fiction than truth. But the while the woman before him looks like a goddess, she is solid and real in his arms.   _

_ “I love you.” It’s out before Jon even registers his intention to speak. He should be scared, but saying it feels so right. Even more so when her face lights up. He knows he is wearing the same, dopey smile. _

_ “I love you too.” Sansa’s words leave Jon ecstatic, and she peppers his face with kisses before he can respond. “I love you; I love you; I love you.” But then she moves to his mouth, and Jon winces. “Sorry!” She jumps back, and Jon’s addled mind can’t understand why. _

_ “It’s fine.” He maneuvers her into his lap and nuzzles her neck. “I love you.” He’s not sure which is better, saying it or hearing her say it. Without thinking Jon brushes her lips with his own and promptly curses. _

_ Sansa pulls back, and Jon whines at the loss of contact. She picks up the discarded ice with one hand, while continuing to pet him and fret with the other. _

_ He runs his fingers along her sides and grins into the stained towel. “You’re family could walk in at any time.” _

_ “I don’t care.” _

_ “You weren’t the one who got punched,” Jon teases, but Sansa stills. _

 

She can feel the creeping anxiety, and even Jon’s soothing touch cannot fully alleviate it. She never wants to witness that type of aggression again. “I’m not okay with what Robb did.” 

“Then we’ll tell him that.” Jon removes the ice and places it on the table. “Besides, he didn’t know the truth about us.”

That is a weak excuse, but it does force Sansa to think about the rest of her family waiting for an explanation outside. “Is that what you want? Are you ready for that?”

“I just want to be with you.”

Sansa looks into Jon’s eyes, dark with lust and love and reverence. She melts into him for a kiss before she remembers his injury and stops herself. But Jon is having none of that. He meets her mouth with a growl that is part pain, part pleasure. Sansa allows it, tasting iron for a few beats before replacing her lips with the ice, over Jon’s protests.

“We’re ready for this.” Sansa’ beams at him, then winks. “Besides, I have other plans for your mouth.”

There is a retching sound on the other side of the door. Sansa can hear Rickon complaining that he didn’t need to hear that, followed by a din of questioning voices. She gets up and offers Jon her hand, mouthing one final ‘I love you’ before exiting the kitchen with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn’t intend to be so hard on Robb - and to introduce more angst by extension (I can’t stop myself!) But in the process of writing I got a bit upset about how hurtful that type of aggression can be. Still, Jon and Sansa are in love, and living together, and telling the family.


End file.
